


Just One Misunderstanding (Is All That Stands Between Us)

by Bluebellstar



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Idiots in Love, Irene Adler Ships Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Meddling, No Mary, No Reichenbach Fall, Oblivious, POV Irene Adler, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, everyone is happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28025370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebellstar/pseuds/Bluebellstar
Summary: Irene Adler usually doesn't like to meddle. Unfortunately, Sherlock and John are mutually oblivious idiots in love and she can't take it a second longer.John thinks Sherlock isn't interested in relationships. Sherlock knows that John isn't gay. He yells it out to London and her criminal class at every given opportunity.It's Christmas, so Irene decides to do something about it.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 55





	Just One Misunderstanding (Is All That Stands Between Us)

**Author's Note:**

> Not particularly original as ideas go I know, but it's Christmas and I wanted to write some eventually happy Johnlock.
> 
> Chronologically, this is set in my favourite universe where Reichenbach never happened, and this there was no need for Mary, or the very divisive series four.
> 
> While set at Christmas, this is not all that Christmassy at all.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Irene Adler wasn't usually the sort of woman who enjoyed helping people for the sake of it. In fact, ninety nine percent of the time, she revelled in causing trouble just to have access to the kind of blackmail that would make the most hardened journalists weep. But even for a dominatrix, there were some situations so pathetic that she simply could tolerate it no longer.

Popular as Irene was (and she wasn't denying that she was well known and not just for her punishments), she only had a small circle of close friends (even if they might not term it the same way). Among those friends were two of the most oblivious and pitiable men she had ever had the misfortune of coming across. The two could compete in mutual pining at the Olympics. It was for the sake of the first (and most hopeless case) out of the two that Irene was breaking her policy of non-interference. For a self proclaimed genius in the art of the science of deduction, Sherlock Holmes was spectacularly ignorant in the matters of the heart. And Irene did not mean spectacularly ignorant in the nice way. The pining she could live with, it was amusing in its own way. But the never-ending complaining and whining about how John was too good for him, and not gay, and would never want to be with a recovering drug addict (who solves crimes as an alternative to getting high - Irene remembered verbatim) was starting to get on Irene's nerves, even through the medium of text. So, as a Christmas present, Irene had decided that she was going to do something about it. And since Sherlock wouldn't listen (she knew, she'd tried repeatedly), the hopes for any kind of resolution rested on the shoulders of John H. Watson.

And if that didn't work, Irene was going to have to involve the Iceman. She would have done so already, but he was still a bit miffed with her for looking through his laptop last Christmas. It was really his own fault for leaving it there on the table - was she not supposed to look? (Mummy Holmes had invited her, intrigued to meet the Woman who could bring royalty to their knees.)

Without a single second to lose (she had urgent Christmas plans in New York with Kate), Irene leapt upon the first idea that came to her, charming John and Sherlock's beloved landlady (not their housekeeper) to let her in to wait for her boys.

__________________

Irene picked her moment perfectly. Sherlock was currently in the middle of an experiment at Bart's, and John was due home from the surgery any minute now. She sat demurely on Sherlock's chair, tapping her fingers against the smooth leather, smirking at the sound of John's tired treads upon the stairs.

"Irene?" As usual, John sounded the right mixture of curious and ' _not in the mood to deal with your crap, Irene, I swear to God_ '.

"John" Irene smiled demurely, waving a red-nailed hand towards the chair she knew had always been his. "Sit, please."

John sat, but he didn't look happy about it. Irene wasn't bothered - John didn't look happy unless he was following Sherlock around looking amazed. Then again, it could be her latest unannounced drop-in that had irked the former army doctor.

"Irene, I thought we agreed after last time, no more visits" John pointed out, far more calmly than normal. Usually, he would be yelling at her to get out of his flat. Such a jealous man, that one. She had only had such vigorous interest in Sherlock to try and make his flatmate jealous - how was she supposed to know that it wouldn't work out the way she hoped? "What do you want this time?"

"I'll get to the point then, shall I?" Irene offered, raising her smirk to meet John's glare.

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all" Irene assured him, now fully smirking. "How long have you been in love with Sherlock, our enigmatic yet oblivious consulting detective?"

John spluttered but Irene just looked at him evenly. The sandy haired student slumped in defeat. "Since the mad bastard deduced me in the lab the first time we met."

Irene nodded, having suspected as much - and she told him so. 

"So everyone knows?"

"Yes" Irene said honestly, rolling her eyes. Greg knew, Molly knew, Kate knew, Stamford knew, honestly most of the metropolitan police had a strong inkling. The lot of them had a pool going. Irene was going to be rich - if these idiots got their heads out in time.

John paled. "Does Sherlock knows?"

" _Sherlock_?" Irene gave an sudden snort of laughter. "No. Sometimes I'm amazed he even knows how to interact with people at all."

"And you've brought it up now, because?"

"It's Christmas, John" Irene pointed out, her tone marginally less sultry than it usually was. "Worldwide time for miracles. Also the time for you to pull your head out of wherever it's hiding and ask him out for a drink - stress that it's a date. Take it from me, he won't understand otherwise." John looked sceptical. "Do it, for all our sakes. It's Christmas."

John glowered at her in the way he normally did when Sherlock was being a 'bit not good'. "If this is your idea of a joke, Irene" he glared, reminding her of a particularly cross hedgehog. "It is in very poor taste. Sherlock made it abundantly clear that he doesn't do relationships."

Irene resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. Honestly, men were such idiots. Being gay saved her so much trouble. "No" she said flatly.

"No?" John frowned, confusion etched into his face. "He was sitting right in front of me when he said it."

"No."

"John! I need to borrow your new jumper!" Sherlock's voice yelled, the genius himself bounding up the stairs. "I've got a new acid I want to try out" he continued, moving into the kitchen without apparently noticing Irene's presence. "I'll be doing you a favour by destroying that monstrosity. For science."

Irene revelled in the way John jumped and turned to gape at the cheek-boned genius that stood behind him, Sherlock's cheeks flushed from the cold outside. "What did my jumper ever do to you?"

"It offended my eyes, John" Sherlock explained, as if it should be obvious. "It's hideous."

"Listen, you tit" John growled, already halfway out of his chair. "My property-"

"John" Sherlock interrupted, finally having noticed her. "Irene is here. Is it intentional?"

Irene rolled her eyes, internally cheering at the spark of jealousy in his multicoloured eyes. "Of course" she replied, allowing a hint of a smirk to break through. "We were having a discussion about misunderstandings. Especially between you two." John gaped, glaring at her to tell her to be quiet. She smirked, already moving away from the hopeless pair. "I see you two have a lot to talk about" she purred, winking at Sherlock's audible confusion. "I'll pop by in a few months or so. And call your mother, you know how she worries about you."

___________________

The Woman's departure left Sherlock with an unsettled feeling in his chest. Nevermind that Mycroft had finally cottoned on to the fact that she wasn't dead (or that much of a threat to National Security, for the most part - she just liked to _play_ ). She had been here, sitting in his chair, talking to his John, and he didn't like it. Nevertheless, perhaps John did want to talk to Sherlock, despite the irritation John had expressed seconds earlier. He folded himself into his chair, patiently waiting for John to begin. John was, after all, the one versed in this discussion, so it made logical sense that John ought to be the one to begin it.

John said nothing.

Sherlock fixed his eyes on John, automatically taking in his flushed cheeks, tense posture, averted eyes, and clenched fists. Clearly uncomfortable. Why? Ah. _Obvious_.

Fact: Irene was aware of Sherlock's feelings for John. 

Fact: Irene was Sherlock's friend (sort of).

Fact: friends (like older brothers irritatingly succeeding on their diets) meddled in other friends lives ( _annoying_ ).

Fact: John was clearly uncomfortable at the prospect of talking to Sherlock. 

Fact: John Watson was not gay. 

Fact: Sherlock was. 

Conclusion: Irene Adler had told John he had feelings for him.

Inescapable.

"John, I - uh, I apologise for any interference in your life Irene may have been trying to engineer" he began, clearing his throat to hide his awkwardness (impossible, John always noticed, John was brilliant like that). "I am fully aware that you identify as ' _not gay_ ', and while I do, I hope any allusions Irene may have made to my feelings for you, did not make you uncomfortable-"

"Shut up."

Sherlock snapped his head up, astonished at the hard tone John adopted. "John-"

"I said shut up, Sherlock" John warned, Sherlock's mouth snapping closed at the order. "You never once said that you were gay, Sherlock" John continued, the bite back in his tone. Frustrated - at him? Probably. He usually was. "I was there. I asked and you said that relationships were not your area, and you considered yourself married to your studies and in time your work."

"May I speak now?" Sherlock wondered, John favouring him with a sharp nod.

"By all means." The friendly tone in which John delivered the words let Sherlock know his flatmate was still angry, and felt that he had won the argument.

"Wrong" Sherlock simply stated, employing the tone he knew infuriated the morons and police officers he habitually corrected. "If you will recall" he continued quickly, seeing the warning flash of anger in John's eyes. "I said that girlfriends were not my area and that I did not have a boyfriend. And" he added victoriously (although what a hollow sounding victory it was) "you are the one that constantly announces that you're not gay!"

"Of course I'm not bloody gay, you git!" John yelled, Mrs Hudson's voice echoing up the stairs with a cry of 'neighbours!'.

Sherlock glanced away, fighting the feeling of his heart cleaving in two. His eyes prickled, but he refused to let his transport betray him now.

"Hey." Sherlock raised his gaze, John crouched in front of him, hand rubbing gentle circles on his knee. "Idiot" John breathed, all anger replaced with a gentle tenderness that made Sherlock's heart ache. "Clearly you've never heard of bisexuality. Birds. Blokes. Could never choose before I met you."

"Me?" Sherlock uttered, mind dangerously close to going offline.

"You" John agreed simply. His free hand came up to tangle with Sherlock's own. Warm, a little rough, grounding. "You saw me, Sherlock. Just as I saw you." John cracked a wry grin, lighting up his whole face. "I reckon your roundabout admission of having feelings for me is about as close to a love confession I'm ever going to get. So I might as well just jump in to the deep end - it's how we do things anyway." John took a deep breath (into battle? Possibly). "Sherlock Holmes, my idiot genius, I love you." 

John leaned in to kiss him, but Sherlock pulled away. It wasn't the time yet, not yet. Sherlock licked his lips, forcing the fog of emotion away enough that he could speak. John still looked a little hurt, but he wouldn't in a moment - if Sherlock could manage not to cock it up. "Of course I love you" Sherlock stated softly, honestly. "You saved me, in every possible way."

John leaned in, eyes shining with so much emotion Sherlock could barely stand it. "I'm going to kiss you now" he announced, breath ghosting over Sherlock's lips.

"Hurry up" Sherlock said. Or well, he would have said it. If John hadn't chosen that very moment to bury his hands in his hair and press their lips (finally) together.

Later that night, John proposed dinner at Angelo's. Sherlock accepted. They had their first date with two candles (to make it extra romantic), but had to leave after the main course to catch a pickpocket that fortuitously ran past their window with an obviously stolen purse. Their nice chase through the streets of London ended with the pickpocket in cuffs, Lestrade grumbling about needing a holiday, and (in Sherlock's mind, the best part) some well earned snogging back at 221B. 

All was right in the world, just as it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are very much appreciated.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Happy Holidays!!!


End file.
